Jun 23 2011

Summer is Good

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Anya has been out of school now for about two weeks, and we are both still alive. Yay! Her school had an awesome end-of-the-year celebration. Students, staff, and families gathered outside for parting words, thank yous, and a great song summing up the year.

After that, we had a potluck lunch (mason jars of fresh milk, ice cream sundaes, watermelon, and lots of other yummy treats), and then playtime! There were water balloons for the big kids and shower poofs dipped in water for the little kids (and for me!). Tons of paper airplanes. Frisbees, balls, running, yelling. Art projects to look at and student-authored books to read.

Leading into summer break, I was a bit nervous about being with Anya 24/7 for the first time. Silly me forgetting about my part-time job. Anya is back hanging out with her old buddies at T’s house a few hours a week while I play with numbers mostly uninterrupted in a nice, quiet place. So, my nervousness was mostly unwarranted. Still there is the wailing that fills the house at least a few times a day. (And that’s not mentioning the kid.)

Aside from hanging at T’s and at work, we’ve been going to the library and the post office and buying chicken food and swinging on swings and taking multiple baths a day and baking a cake from scratch and watching cartoons and playing with dolls and rocks and pulling chicken tails and reading so we can get prizes from the library and napping and painting and asking lots and lots of questions. We also went blueberry picking.

I’ve gone a few times in years past to pick berries with friends, but this was the first year I felt Anya was old enough to go to, and it was also the first year Andy realized his need to make blueberry wine. We got there right around opening time at 7am on a Saturday (!??!?!!?). I think we left around 9:30, 18 pounds of blueberries heavier. When we first weighed in, we only had 17, and Andy wanted 15 for his wine, so I sent him back to get another pound for pancakes and muffins and pie. Doesn’t he look sad having had to pick that one last pound? I think he was jealous that Anya and I sat around eating corn flakes and watching chickens while we waited for him.

The garden is starting to produce. I’ve picked two cucumbers so far, and there are teeny tomatoes on some of the plants. Every day for the last week or so, we’ve been getting raspberries…mostly from the wild plants but some from the berry bed. There is lettuce. (Wait, are we supposed to be eating that?) I’m very proud that the garden areas I planted are being maintained. Yeah, I didn’t get as much area cleared or as much planted as I wanted, but at least the stuff I did clear/plant is doing well. (Except for the pees. And the carrots. And the radishes. Radishes are gross anyhow.)

We bought 10 feeder goldfish and threw them in the pond. Will they survive? Who knows. We go look for them and once in a while see a flash of orange.

And finally, the summer has brought ticks. Teeny, tiny, wee, itty bitty ticks. They look like a speck of black pepper. I’ve found three (two on me, one on Anya) in the last two days. The only consolation is that they are so tiny that they aren’t quite as creepy as the bigger ticks. Still, on the other hand, because they are smaller, they are harder to notice and more likely to dig in for the long haul, which provides more possibility for Lyme’s disease. STUPID TICKS. I think I need a shower.

Jun 20 2011

Neigh!

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I was waiting for Aunt Linda to get the package, and now that she has, I get to post my most recent quilled piece. (Just the horse.)

I found the design in an etsy store, and although I have absolutely no plans to try and make any money off the design myself, I wanted to make sure to give the creator credit so that the internet karma wouldn’t come after me with a big bat. See, I read a web post a few days ago on the blog of a quiller I like. She was mad, and rightfully so, because someone was recreating cards the blogger had created. Not just a bit or piece, but entire cards. And lots of them. And I thought, ya know, I really should point out where I find my designs because I don’t want anyone to be mad. I promise, blogging quillers, that I will never steal your designs for profit and that from now on I will make sure to say where I found the design. Of course, there was also a flower in the picture I posted, and I don’t remember where I found that, alas. Baby steps.

Now, back to the piece. Aunt Linda donated money to my Relay for Life team. In return, I said I would quill something for her, and she picked a horse. ‘Cause she likes horses. Most of the animals I’ve done so far have been fairly simple, but horses? I couldn’t find any examples of quilled horses that weren’t either dorky looking or pretty complex. So, I found the simplest of the complex ones and got to work on it. It took me a long time not because it was hard but because it was scary. All those pieces. All that squooshing of all those pieces into a big shape. AIEIEIE. But, like most things, I just took it one bit at a time, and I finally finished it about a week ago. Phew!

Jun 2 2011

Playground

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Last week Anya’s new playset from Grandma Diane and Uncle David and Aunt Nancy arrived. All one thousand pounds of it. Last weekend, Anya and I put it together. Cabol helped a little bit too. It would be great if there were pictures of us putting it together, but Cabol has learned to hide far, far away whenever I am trying to build something.

Ok, it may not look completely level, but that is just an optical illusion. Or the fact that our house is built on top of a mountain. But a half ton of wood tends not to shift once it is in place.

Anya loves it. I will probably cover up the opening on top where the monkey bars end with a railing, since she is too small to use them right now, and I’m afraid she’ll roll out one day (see ‘built on top of a mountain’ above).

May 26 2011

May List (with some April, too)

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I missed a crafty day last month, and it has thrown off everything since. Birthday cards were late. No blog posts for a month. Groundhog moved in under the tool shed without even signing a lease. Chaos. Must never miss craft day again. Here’s the list of what’s been going on. Sorry, no pictures of the groundhog. He hasn’t been so friendly since I posted the eviction notice on his burrow.

  • Got out the swimmy suit, and filled up the mosquito breeding ground water table.

  • Anya said cute things: garbage trash, soccer kick, sticky tape.
  • My parents are weird. (Anya took this photo.)

  • Got four chickens. They lay eggs. They poo. They eat. Mostly the latter two.

  • Came out of retirement to be the part-time office manager for Anya’s school.
  • Gave a chicken a bath. We thought she had a stuck egg. Turns out she was probably just constipated. MORE FIBER.

  • Anya turned four.

  • Anya had first friend birthday party. There was a bouncy house. And rainbow frosted cupcakes. And lots of grandparents (and friends, of course).

  • Got three fish. One dead so far. Found it hanging half sucked up into the filter.
  • Caught a swarm of bees.

  • Have baby lettuces and radishes growing in the garden. Ate a few strawberries before something else ate them. Stared at baby plums on baby plum tree.
  • Harvested two batches of asparagus from various random spots about the yard. And one green sword.

  • Plant light melted, filling the scary bathroom with smoke.
  • Andy found a really good deal on paper towels. Then he sold half of them to some friends. Then he made Anya a new bed.

  • Dishwasher WORKS!
Apr 19 2011

There’s a mole in the bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza

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I don’t like moles, but I want to pet them.

Up until yesterday, I’d only ever seen dead moles and moles being attacked by a cat. Maybe that is why I never realized what nice, soft, velvety-looking fur they have. (I should have known. That Thumbelina book I had to read 57 times tried to marry the girl off to a mole, and the book said the mole had a great coat. Why didn’t I believe?) Everything is different now that I have seen two moles in as many days, alive and on the surface, scratching around in the lawn. (Perhaps it was the same mole twice. If I see another, I will try to paint my initials on its back with fingernail polish.) I thought moles stayed underground, but maybe the ground is too wet for them after this weekend’s deluge. Or, as we call it around here, “The Storm That Ate Half Our Driveway.” Maybe these are stupid moles or sick moles or lost moles. What do I know about moles?

Oh right, they have really pretty fur. Luckily for my (still intact) fingers, moles also have freakish alien feet and a creepy nose that looks and moves like a worm trying to get out of its head. I suddenly just now wondered if that was really a mole I saw, what with the whole mole/vole thing. Holy cow. Do not do an image search on “mole.” The creepy dermatological images and the not-so-appetizing-looking food aside, there are some FREAKY looking moles. My moles, in comparison, are beauty queens. I’m still not going to find out if that fur is as luxurious feeling as it looks.

I had to get rid of the mole. It was way too close to what could possibly be in some days or weeks an actual vegetable garden. Now that Buddy is gone, I am the mole-inator here. Problem is, I am very bad at killing things (stink bugs aside). So, I did what any normal person would do and scooped the mole up with a shovel, put it in an empty flower pot, and left it in the shade under the picnic table for Andy to deal with when he got home. Problem. Andy was already home. Barfing his guts out. He didn’t seem very interested in dealing with my furry friend. I decided to get rid of the mole by moving it far, far from my garden.

Plan A: Carry the mole way to the far end of our property up by the road and let it loose.
Problem: I was creeped out by the idea of carrying the flower pot that far with the alien-fur-coat-creature scrabbling up the sides. Plus, I’m lazy and that’s a long walk.

Plan B: Put the flower pot (mole and all) into the car, and drive it to the end of the property.
Problem: I was even more creeped out by the idea of that creature escaping and hiding in my car.

Plan C: Move the mole across to the other side of the yard and toss it over the fence into the neighbor’s hay field.
Problem: I felt stupid even thinking that a barbed wire fence would keep the mole off our property, and I felt bad about putting the creature on someone else’s property.

In the end, I pitched it over in a corner of the yard near the fence and used my mental powers to encourage it to head for the hay and never return. I bet I’ll see it again tomorrow. If I do, it better like hot pink because I don’t think the pale blue would go well with its coat.

Apr 11 2011

Easter Bunny, Take I

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This past Saturday, Anya’s former sitter, T., was helping organize an Easter Eggstravaganza in town (pancake breakfast, pics with the bunny, egg hunt). We decided to go because (A) we really like T, (B) it was for a great cause (Relay For Life), and (C) Anya loves her some egg hunting. I have to admit I was a bit sad because the event fell on a scrapbook day. This meant I missed two and a half hours of prime crafty time. But, we make sacrifices for our kids, ya know? I was also sad because it was chilly and cloudy, so Anya couldn’t wear her cute new sundress and the pictures wouldn’t be as awesome as last year’s. So, for me, the day started out kind of sad.

We had to take both vehicles to town because I planned to leave for crafty time right after the egg event. Anya and I got there first, got out of the car, and stopped. There were flocks of little kids heading back from the hunting grounds with their baskets full of eggs. I was confused. I checked my clock. I checked the time on the sign. I thought, maybe I am just confused and hallucinating the eggy baskets. I started to prepare Anya for a very likely lack of egg hunt, and we walked on over. There was one small flock of kids and parents with empty baskets near the hunting ground. They looked sad and perplexed. Since I felt sad and perplexed, there was an instant kinship.

“Did we miss it?” I asked.
“Yup.”
“But, it’s not 10:30 yet.”

Andy arrived, and I had to share with him the sad news. We missed it. Anya was sad because no egg hunt; I was sad because two and a half hours, and Andy was sad because this was his day to sleep in. We tried to make the most of things, so we moved on to pics with the bunny. Anya didn’t want to have her picture taken; she wanted to take the pictures. So, she did.

We tried to herd her back over somewhere near the bunny for a picture. She ran.

I tried to convince her the bunny was sweet and nice, but even I was scared to pet him on the head. I think it was the bow tie.

No one seemed to know what happened with the premature release of the hunters. Possibly the person in charge needed a new watch battery. More likely, I think, the little kids were so hyper and excited and WANT EGGS NOW that they overran the poor person in charge, maybe even knocked her over or buried her in pancakes, and went wild like the feral people kids around candy are.

While I headed out to be crafty, Andy and Anya stopped at the store for some candy to put into eggs at home for a little egg hunt of their own. I haven’t heard any sad tales of the egg hunt that didn’t happen, so I think everything turned out fine.